New Haven
by Grimoire Fluffers
Summary: A group of Orphaned Children are thrust into a world far more harsh and deadly than the snow they left behind.
1. Chp 0

Hey guys. My name is The Specter Novelist. Yes…the name is cringy. What can I say? I made this account 5 years ago (I think?). Point being, it was in my earlier yea- NEVER MIND. For a while I have always read fanfiction but never actually wrote fanfiction. IT ALL CHANGES NOW! This is my first fanfic based on the game FrostPunk. Please write a review, I am really trying to work on my creative writing ability. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Full on bashing my writing…is also fine(?), though I will most likely ignore it. That is all I have to say. Enjoy the story!

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Chapter 0: Beyond the Ash and Snow

The air is warm, yet I feel no comfort in its embrace. None of us have moved from the storage hall for the past hour. Rows upon rows of wooden crates stretch down the empty hall, vanishing towards the dark corridor in the back. Oil lambs have been placed at our feet on the hardwood surface, emitting an odor of burning fat that mixes into the musty air. The metal beams above us continue creaking from the strain against the faint howling wind. James is still pacing along the resource crates, his footsteps echoing off the copper metal walls, while Ashley and Fergusson watch on in trepidation. Although we don't speak it, we are all aware of the dire straights fate had dealt us with a cruel irony.

*pack pack pack*

Those metal soles of his against the wood floor are now beginning to drive me mad, and I believe the feeling is mutual for Ashly and Fergusson as well. I have half a mind to shout it to him, to force him down on the floor and cease his none-stop "contemplation". Yet I know that he is only grieving; we all are. Our true expressions of fear, guilt, and despair are merely being withheld by the ever-present feeling of shock we all felt. It is a feeling colder than ice.

*pack pack pa-*

I look up. James has stopped pacing. He's looking right at me. I know what he is going to ask next.

"Are you SURE we are alone?!"

And again, with a heart filled with regret, I can only tell him the same answer as before.

"We are all alone."

*pack pack*

He is beginning to pace again. Eventually, he shakes his head.

"No…no…this place is too complex to be unmanned"

raking his fingers through his hair he continues,

"There needs to be at least be one person to man the furnaces. And don't even get me started on the generator…"

This continues for ten more minutes. James continues to list off every possible position that would require an engineer or a large caliber workforce. When he finally lists off the broilers, his face twists again into that of concentration.

"This… a monstrosity of this caliber cannot be unmanned! There needs to be at least someone to provide routinely maintenance…"

*pack-pack-pack*

His pace has quickened. A small hiccup alerts my attention, and I take a glance towards Ashley and Fergusson. Ashley is on the verge of tears, her face of shock beginning to melt and be replaced with one of hysteria. The majority of her family were one of the many engineers assigned to construct this vessel. Lord knows how she was feeling, realizing they were not a part of the lasting workforce. Fergusson immediately pulls her close and rubs her shoulder, making an attempt to calm down his little sister, while shooting James a glare to mark his displeasure.

"Could you keep your voice down?! They'll hear you!"

James rounds on Fergusson, reflecting a glare of his own.

"If what Thomas says is true, they will know eventually"

"They don't need to know now!"

Fergusson is referring to the others. The 26 additional children in the storage hall next door, lucky enough to have stowed away with us before the storm. How thick were these walls? Would they even listen in?

"But the will know! What will they think when they discover their daddy's are not patrolling the halls, or that their mums are not preparing food in the kitchens?! They will know eventually, if they already don't-!" (change this dialogue – less pathetic)

"They don't need to know NOW!"

Fergusson's voice cracks at the end of his statement. James takes a step back. Fergusson's eyes had begun to swell red. Ashely was already crying into his shoulder, snot, tears and saliva staining his leather coat. Subconsciously, I turn my head to the left. The hull door had been left slightly ajar from our declaration of a "private meeting". Though I knew too, James was right. If they didn't know already, they would know sooner than later.

James face of anger briefly morphs into that of guilt and then back to neutral. Turning on his heel, he quickly faces me. His eyes are set, determined to receive an answer I know I could not give him, yet alas he cannot face it. He cannot contemplate that we were the remainder. The last survivors of New York City. Countless years of cultivation, industrialization, and progression, all wiped away in a single night, leaving its survivors on a sheet of mechanized metal. The worst part is, I think with cruel amusement, these survivors are merely children, now orphans as of late. A minor spec, compared to the millions of workers and family members that were supposed to accompany us along this hard journey. And even then, a journey to where?

This is a fact we must face, no matter how downtrodden and diminished our hopes may be. And as such, I need to convince him of it, no matter how hard he denies.

"The ship is automated."

Before he speaks, I reach into my breast pocket pulling out the journal I snagged from the abandoned engineers office.

"Everything has been optimized to support and run completely through automatons. They even have a repair grid for the ones that spontaneously break down, and even that is built for minimal maintenance"

Holding the journal like a bible, I point to the ground.

"This ship is its own metal terrarium." I say darkly,

"There are no additional living quarters, only automaton docking stations. There is only one kitchen, and according to the pantry labels, it only has enough rations to feed 10 people for 15 years."

"But you haven't even checked the upper levels!" He exclaimed, desperation leaking into his voice.

I stiffly shake my head.

"There is only an automated piloting bridge with additional weather monitors. There is also a specified 'God's Dome', but according to this" I tap the journal against my knee "it's only for cultivating a small settlement. Trust me…I checked"

I take a deep breath

"This ship was made to house and transport the materials necessary for a brand new colonization. A moving storage shed for the transport ships that were supposed to accompany us"

My eyes are beginning to tingle. I can't meet his eyes anymore. The cold feeling of shock is beginning to subside, but at the same time being replaced with something much worse…

"We…we really are the only ones here?"

James' voice has finally cracked.

I nod.

"This ship, is merely an automated storage vessel"

The shock has subsided. Now slowly comes the realization. The grief and pain we all feel begins to pour freely from all of us.

Looking down, a few specs of water hit the hard wood at my feet. I don't dare look up. I can already picture their faces before me, devoid of the hope we held moments before. In my stupor, a vision of a women with brown hair and blue eyes passes through my minds eye, a portly man with a lecherous grin standing close behind her.

My dam finally breaks.

"WE'RE ALONE!" I wail. I can already hear sobs reverberating in the hall next door. They were listening in after all.

I wipe my eyes of the fresh tears pouring down my face. I hear James stumble into a sitting position near one of the crates, tilting his head back, he cries into the open room. Ashley is balling louder into Fergusson's shoulder, while he cries silently into his own scarf.

I curl up my legs upon myself, burying my head into my knees. We're all alone. I Thomas Regenson, along with 29 kids of ages 10-16 with no parents, no engineers, no crew, no adults, are all alone aboard the fully automated mega-storage class airship known as Noah's New Haven. We are the last survivors of New York city.

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I KNOW I KNOW! VERY LITTLE DETAIL. And very short… maybe a little rushed? This was meant to make sure I have at least something to write about. Will update with a new chapter this week! Maybe revise the prologue to make it more readable/understandable. See ya till then! (update: this prologue was revised :P. Will probably do more of that later on. Come to think of it…this is not really a chapter but more of a brainstorm session. I'm posting it anyway…)


	2. Chp 1 - The City of Discontent

**Hello! Here is the actual first chapter! The previous chapter that I posted (renamed chapter 0) was supposed to be a "testing of the waters". Testing being it was to see if I have anything to write about in this very small (yet developing) fandom. And as a result, I have kept rereading it and…its garbage. Absolute. f*cking. Horsesh*t. But hey, it gets gist of what I am going to be writing about. These first 4-5 chapters are going to be an intro into the characters and try to develop a relationship. Then I will be going to describe the situation, give some important details, maybe provide some extra fun to add to the storyline- blah blah, blah blah, blahhhh. However, as soon as I get past these 4-5 chapters and actually get into the meat of the story (or the "call to action") that chapter 0 is going to be getting the heel and deleted. If you want me to keep it that's fine (just say so in the reviews), but I REALLY don't like it as a start-off chapter. Anyways, we still have 4-5 chapters before we reach that point (here is assuming anyone is going to enjoy reading this anyways…). Welp, that is all I have to say on that point. ON TO THE FIRST CHAPTER!**

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Chapter One: The City of Discontent

"-50 degrees Fahrenheit", reads the thermometer in a deserted town square. A town square that would easily boast an additional -50 degrees more, with its boarded up houses, icicle plagued roofs, and frost covered walkways. Yet the thermometer still reads -50 as it has for the past 5 years. No one has bothered to fix it. No one really cares. The engineers stopped maintaining these streets far before that, and even today they will no longer venture this far from the Generator. The only thing left in the desolate district are a few abandoned infirmaries along with 10 terribly worn down bunkhouses. The few that live here are either gravely sick or will be in the next day or so. It is the last resort known as the slums. A place where workers come to avoid the lingering eyes of the peacekeepers, or to stash stolen rations and contraband in the semi-abandoned bunkhouses. A rather unwise decision, as their loot is more likely to be pillaged within the next week by the surrounding residents. However, the guilty hardly ever come back to retrieve their stolen boon anyway, either from being caught by a peacekeeper or simply forgetting about the hiding location of the items altogether.

The only available heat source comes from a broken steam hub, located in a wide back alley near the abandoned CareHouse, barely giving off a shred of warmth to combat the frostbite inducing cold. And yet, a few children can be seen, bundled in thick, but terribly frayed, wool coats. They had begun dancing around the broken source of heat while singing a long forgotten nursery rhyme.

" _Bah, Bah, a black Sheep,_

 _Have you any wool?_

 _Yes sir, yes sir_

 _Three bags full,_

 _Two for my master,_

 _One for my dame,_

 _None for the little boy_

 _That cries in the lane."_

Songs like this are band in the city. Far before these children were born the Mayor instructed the 3 captains to instigate a rule banning the distribution and advertisement of "activist-propaganda". Controversial artwork, Pre-frost Novels, and even children songs were unable to escape the peacekeeper's fury. Most of the Books and paintings were burned as fuel for the generators, while the rest were redefined as grade-S contraband; or in other words, a one-way ticket to the suicide mines. This is included especially for the song they are singing: "Black-Sheep". A "disgusting, corruption inducing, testament to the pre-frost gangs who squander the blood, sweat, and tears of our hard working people!", so says the mayor. 3 children have already been put to death for singing it in a city hothouse. After that, parents refrained from teaching the next generation any stories or nursery rhymes. You can hardly hear a laugh in the Child Shelters anymore, let alone a nursery rhyme. Yet here it lives, in the silent far corner of the slums.

The nursery rhyme repeats like this for the next hour. The 5 children singing have begun to dance and skip in line with the beat, the ground thawing in combination from the broken hub and the rapid repetitive movement against the frosty. Eventually, a man brandishing a metal club turns into the wide alley. His attire consists of an expensive white and blue wool coat, with the symbol of an eagle embroidered upon the chest. A peacekeeper. After seeing the kids he narrows his eyes and starts menacingly brandishing the club in his left hand. He walks over to the playing children, who have yet to notice him. As he nears, the group of singing children have noticed his presence and immediately stop moving. Their singing cuts off with their eyes widening in shock and fear at the approaching peacekeeper. The peacekeeper has made a beeline for one of the smallest. In a matter of seconds he has hoisted the child into the air by the scruff of his neck. He glares at the rest of the children. No one moves a muscle. it's as if they had all frozen solid in the frosty cold air. The only sign of life indicated by their smoke like breath, coming out in deep paced breaths from both the children and the man. Then, the peacekeeper speaks.

"You lot are out past your parole"

He drawls in a smooth southern accent. Up close, his age appears to be right around 20.

"Although I am not one to keep track of Child Shelters, I'm pretty sure you little brats were not assigned a working position near the back streets of the slum districts"

His glare begins to harden, a wicked smile gracing his smooth lips.

"And low and behold! Singing the devils work as well!

"I wonder, have by any chance I've run across a gang of those mini street thieves I've been hearing about? Hiding things in the bunkhouses are ya?!"

The small child in his grip begins clawing at the man's hand. His face transitioning from a bright tomato red to a sickly dark purple. Desperately he chokes out,

"We-chk-wver not hkding anytin-kaf"

He gives up on the fruitless struggle and grasps the man by the wrists, desperately trying to remove his vicelike grip. The surrounding kids are getting even more terrified. A girl in a dirty gray scarf runs over to the peacekeeper, grabbing his leg, sobbing.

"Let him go! We didn't mean it! We just wanted to play!"

The man shifts his attention to the girl. Sneering, he tosses the boy to the ground while shaking his leg, removing the girl and kicking her square in the face. The girl stumbles back, a few specs of red appear upon the white frosty ground as she clutches her now bleeding nose.

"I AM DOING THE TALKING YOU LITTLE BRAT! Clean the shit out of your mouth and don't lie to me!"

He gestures to the rest of the children, all petrified with looks of fear pasted on their face. The boy from earlier was being hoisted up by one of his friends, his desperate ragged breaths echoing in the alley.

"The rest of you, turn out your pockets and remove your coats! If I believe you are withholding any contraband, ill strip you all down bare and search you thoroughly myse- AHHHHKK!"

Shrieking, the peacekeeper stumbles backward, a pocket knife had been embedder in his left thigh. The girl at his feet had stabbed him in the leg while still clutching her bloody nose.

"YOU LITTLE SHIT! ILL GET YOU FOR-"

In the blink of an eye the expressions of the children shift. Their previous looks of terror replaced with that of sneers of their own. One of the tallest of the kids runs straight for the man, brandishing an even bigger metal club of his own. With a metallic swish and sickening crunch, the guard let out a piercing shriek. The hand holding the peacekeeper's club had been broken within the immediate moment he was distracted. He stumbles back, clutching his own mangled hand while glaring with white hot anger at his young assailant. The tall boy begins to advance upon the peacekeeper. After recovering his breath, the small child from earlier walks over, picking up the discarded club. Looking down on the perplexed, but very angry peacekeeper, the tallest one jeers.

"We love rookies. They never really think twice when diving head first into the slum districts. Easy to bait too. Too pretentious and predatory for their own good"

The children begin to advance, shanks, carving knives, and additional metal clubs are revealed from their worn coats and pants pockets. The peacekeeper limps a few feet backwards, yanking the knife from his thigh and brandishing it towards the advancing party.

"You fucking little shits! Do you know who I AM! Assault me, and you will be making an assault on a peacekeeper! I can send you and your parents all to the suicide mine! Take one more step and I swear I will- AK!"

Two additional children, coming into the alley, had ambushed him from behind with a steel pipe. As if on que, all the kids rushed in on the dazed peacekeeper. Within the bustling group of tattered coats, a scream of anguish reverberates through the ally, coupled with the sounds of crunching bones and battered flesh. After a few minutes, the screams turn silent. The girl with the recent bloody nose, now all dried, ruffles through the man's coat and produces a wad of paper notes.

"We got it!"

Immediately, the taller of the group snatches the notes from her hand. Taking a quick glance at her bloody overalls, he turns his attention to the rest of the group. The majority of the groups pants had become soiled from the merciless beating. Looking them over he nods, and places the notes in his inside pocket.

"We'll have to clean up a bit to avoid attention. Use the steam hub's water tank. And hurry too, the cookhouses have probably resupplied by now. We might be able to get some fresh rations this time"

Quickly, the children stow away their weapons. After quickly cleaning up with a hothouse washcloth, coupled with the cold-but-not-freezing water, they began to follow the taller boy. The smaller of the kids lags a bit behind to spit on the unmoving corpse of the dead peacekeeper. As he leaves, the mangled, bloody body of the peacekeeper is seen on the ground. His face now a pile of broken bone and flesh. His blood beginning to slowly pool around him, freezing in contact to the frosty ground.

The small group of murderers quickly pass through the town square, all huddled together as they follow their leader past the bunkhouses towards the direction of the nearest generator. Eventually, after a little while, they round a corner and are completely out of sight.

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 **Ok…I really wanted to edit this some more. But hey. I promised you guys I would post this week. I think it turned out ok. Definitely room for…needed improvement. I was going to make this PART of chapter 1, but I think I will be breaking it up into chapter two. (MINOR-SPOILER) Next chapter will actually introduce the characters, provide a bit more detail on the city as well. After all of that is said and done, then I will get onto the airship. The airship is supposed to be the main plot point of the story, however the city IS important and must be include with some manner of detail. Anyway, hope to see you next week.**


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